


Long and seek after

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People flirt with Sherlock all the time; it's something John's used to seeing at least a handful of times a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long and seek after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/gifts).



> For [](http://blue-jack.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://blue-jack.livejournal.com/)**blue_jack** on the occasion of the anniversary of the earth being graced with her presence. She asked for pining!John, though this ended up being more jealous!John. I hope that’s okay, bb. ;) The title comes from Sappho’s Fragment 36 as translated by Anne Carson.

People flirt with Sherlock all the time; it's something John's used to seeing at least a handful of times a week (unless of course it's the week he spent unconscious after being pushed from a second storey window, in which case there probably wasn't anyone flirting with Sherlock, who was, if Lestrade is to be believed, even worse than usual to deal with while he was on a tear to find John's attacker, so it's not like John missed much, flirting-wise at least, those six days he was, _ahem_ , otherwise occupied).

Still, just because it's something John is used to seeing doesn't mean it's something he likes. It's actually something he dislikes, although dislike might be too mild a word. John dislikes Harry's drinking; John dislikes the state of his bank account. How John feels about watching people other than himself flirt with Sherlock is probably closer to the feeling he gets when he thinks about being wrapped in explosives and used as bait or when the person sitting behind him at the cinema won’t shut up.

So, he absolutely, one hundred percent hates with his entire being when people flirt with Sherlock, but that's nothing, _nothing_ , compared to actually watching Sherlock flirt back.

He's seen Sherlock flirt before; of _course_ he's seen Sherlock flirt before, but it's always been in pursuit of a lead. Sherlock has never actually _meant_ it before, but for the life of him, John can't see how Sherlock flirting with the man next to him at the bar has _anything_ to do with a case since they just wrapped their most recent case earlier in the day.

John’s not sure why Sherlock agreed to come to the pub with him tonight of all nights, when John’s been trying for ages to get the man to come out with him for a beer, but up until this moment, he hasn’t wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s rethinking that stance now that Sherlock’s body is canted towards a stranger and his head is bowed and his eyes are alive and interested in a way that John so rarely sees away from crime scenes.

 _It’s not even like the guy is that good to look at, for god’s sake,_ John thinks. Sure, he’s tall (taller than Sherlock, which isn’t really that hard since Sherlock’s not spectacularly tall, but only looks that way since he so slender) with dark skin and the greenest eyes John’s ever seen in real life and a square jaw with a smattering of artistic-looking stubble and, okay, yeah, so maybe the guy’s pretty damn handsome after all. But that still doesn’t explain why Sherlock’s giving him the time of day while he hasn’t even glanced once at John since they entered the pub nearly an hour ago now.

John downs what’s left of his beer when the man buys Sherlock another drink and John’s suddenly over it. He can’t stand here watching this anymore, but he can’t just leave Sherlock here, not with that man, not when there’s even the slightest possibility that Sherlock is interested in that man (and he must be, with the way he’s been acting tonight), but he can’t think of a way to get Sherlock to leave with him without causing something of a scene.

 _Oh, to hell with it,_ John thinks, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders and insinuating himself between Sherlock and his most recent object of interest.

“I’m going to head home now,” John tells Sherlock, not even deigning to glance at Sherlock’s conversational partner. John tells himself that he’s not doing an inner happy dance when Sherlock’s attention turns to him, but he’s never been very good at lying to himself so he gives that up pretty quickly. “Are you going to stay around for a bit?”

Sherlock tilts his head and narrows his eyes and that means that he’s reading more from John than John is even aware of, but that stopped bothering John a long time ago. He just stands there and takes the scrutiny for a long handful of seconds before Sherlock bothers to reply.

“No, I think I’ll go with you,” he says slowly, his brain visibly whizzing away at whatever it is he’s figured out about John. “Thank you for the drink,” he tells the man behind John before he turns John towards the door with a hand on his back and walks away without a backwards glance.

“You didn’t have to leave if you were in the middle of a conversation,” John says once they’re meandering their way home because he’s never been able to not shoot himself in the foot when the opportunity has arisen.

“And leave you to go home and fall into a jealous mope? That’s hardly in my best interests,” Sherlock scoffs and that’s when John realizes that Sherlock’s hand is still on his back and how is that not weird?

“I wasn’t going to mope,” John says, completely bypassing the whole jealousy issue because he _was_ jealous, not that he’s ever going to say that out loud, and trying to deny it will do him no good. “I was going to check my email and then finally start on the last _Harry Potter_ and then probably go to bed early.”

“Like I said,” Sherlock says and John most assuredly does not shiver when Sherlock’s hand slips a little lower on his back. “Moping.”

“That’s not moping,” John says as their front door comes into view. “Do I need to get the dictionary out again, Sherlock?”

“No need, though I do wonder if you need to see someone about your eyesight,” Sherlock says, deftly stepping around John and getting the door unlocked and open before John even has his keys out of his pocket.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John hangs his jacket on the hook by the door and turns to head upstairs, but he’s stopped by Sherlock standing squarely at the foot of the stairs, feet planted shoulder width apart.

“You’re not mentally deficient, nor are you prone to self-delusion. The only explanation for your lack of action must be that you’re going blind.”

“Sherlock, what are you talking about? Use small words if need be.”

Only Sherlock doesn’t answer in words. He steps forward and John steps back and on and on until John’s back is pressed firmly against the front door and Sherlock is barely a hairsbreadth away, his palm against the door next to John’s left ear and his breath gusting against John’s lips with every exhale.

“Oh,” John says. “That.”

“Yes, that,” Sherlock says, though the mocking tone that John had been expecting is absent, not that John’s paying too much attention to Sherlock’s tone, not with Sherlock’s lips scant inches away from his own.

But then something occurs to him and, “Hang on a minute,” he says, dragging his eyes from Sherlock’s lips to his eyes. “Were you _trying_ to make me jealous?”

“Obviously.” And there’s the sarcasm finally. “Do try to keep up, John.”

“Yes, how stupid of me not to notice,” John says, but really, looking back on this evening and the past few weeks (and months and, really, most of the last two years), it _is_ obvious. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, so John doesn’t blame himself too much.

“John.”

John’s eyes fall to Sherlock’s lips.

“Yes?”

Sherlock smiles, all teeth and a hint of dimples.

“Stop thinking.”

So John does.  



End file.
